Gentlemen of the North/Chapter 7

HIS encouraged us tremendously. Miss Dearness stuck more willow branches around our two forts, while I remained with the chief, who was curiously watching the Indians on the plains. All of the Sioux were now mounted, the horses the Pillager had captured being replaced by those whose owners had fallen. For some minutes the band milled about; then one man rode aside and began haranguing in a loud voice. The Pillager, who had travelled and lived on the Missouri, readily interpreted the speech, which consisted of exhortations for the Sioux to remember they were brave men, that our scalps must go back to their village to wipe out their disgrace in having lost warriors. The white woman was to be taken alive. I was glad Miss Dearness was busy with her willow wands, for the Pillager interpreted word for word, and she understood the Chippewa tongue almost as well as she did English.

When the speechmaker desisted the Sioux swung into a long line, a manœuver beautifully executed. In this formation they came towards us at a walk, tossing up their lances, waving their axes and singing lustily. I made ready with my gun, picking the leader and a man on the left end as my two victims, but Flat Mouth folded his arms and did not even see to it that his bow was taut.

"Make ready!" I nervously advised.

He grunted in disgust. All but half a dozen of the horsemen began to pivot on the left end of their line and, almost before I could understand what they were up to, this huge segment was galloping madly along, parallel to the woods and away from us.

"When night comes we shall ride very swift or very soft," mumbled Flat Mouth, resuming the task of gathering arrows.

In short, the Sioux were perfectly willing we should break from cover and ride south, and left the six men to keep watch on us. But if we attempted to ride north we must pass through the bulk of their band.

Miss Dearness came up to us, and I told her how the Sioux had thrown most of their men to the other side of the grove. She promptly said:

"It doesn't make sense. If they didn't dare attack when all together what good will it do them to divide their forces?"

"They will wait until dusk and creep in from both sides"

"And be shooting into each other," she shot in.

"Or stay out on the plain and wait for us to try and break through," I concluded.

"But if they don't dare attack in force they must know we can stay here as long as they can stay out there. We can creep to the river and fish. We can make some kind of a raft and cross, or float downstream. We can stay right here and eat our horses. The rivulet furnishes water. And there is a chance that some of our Chippewas may come up the river and give them battle. There's more to it than a waiting campaign. They're anxious to cage us up here until what? Whatever it is the time will be short."

She spoke in English and I translated it to the Pillager. His small eyes sparkled appreciatively and he declared:

"Medicine Hair sees beyond the woods and hill. She can call and send away a voice. She can send her eyes far up the river and over the plain. Look! Tell me what that means!"

He was pointing to the south and at first I could make out nothing. Then I spied it, a thin stream of blue smoke. The girl promptly said in Chippewa:

"The Sioux know help is coming. They will not attack until their friends come. That will be some time before morning. Soon the others will send up a smoke."

The meaning of the smoke was very obvious. Not a half-breed hunter, not a man at any post in our department who could not have read it. Even Probos would have understood. Yet the Pillager, a master at such things, heard her as if she had been an oracle.

"Can the Medicine Hair's eyes, when she calls them back, tell how many Sioux there are at the bottom of that smoke?" he humbly asked.

"As many as were here before you killed any," she calmly replied. Then in English to me: "It's reasonable to believe they belong to the same party and split up in two equal bands. So long as he believes in my manito, so much the braver will he be."

The chief began talking to himself in a guttural and almost audible voice and fell to fingering his bow nervously. His emotion was occasioned by the sight of the six warriors out in front. They were beyond arrow range, and only by luck could a ball score any damage.

They began running back and forth, and we saw they were heaping up dry grass. They paid no attention to us, being intent solely on answering the signal.

With a leap the Pillager was on his horse and riding towards them, his bow held with arrow notched. He was not singing now, and as if in a trance the girl and I watched his progress. As the drama of the situation got into our heads we instinctively clasped hands. Back and forth scuttled the Sioux. Forward rode the Pillager. Then one of them chanced to discover him and, with a shout of fear, turned and made for his pony. I saw him go down with a Sioux arrow buried to the feathers in his back.

With screams of rage the others snatched up their weapons, opened fire and then mounted their horses. With a whoop the Pillager charged at them, and they separated in haste to let him pass through, but, when a bit beyond the fallen warrior, he brought his pony round on two hoofs and was making for the timber, swinging very low from the saddle as he rode. For a moment the speed of his mount was checked, then picked up a rattling pace, and the chief was sitting erect, waved something round his head and sounded his terrible scalp-cry.

"By heavens! But that was a coup worth counting!" I fiercely exclaimed.

With a little shudder the girl reminded:

"They could have come through the woods while we stood here. We've been very careless and"

She ceased abruptly and stared down at our clasped hands.

I was as much surprised as she. Certainly I was no more conscious than she of having taken her hand. It was three years since I had taken a white woman's hand. In no way was the experience displeasing.

"He may need help," she said, releasing her hand and looking toward the Pillager.

I leaped out in front with my gun, and the warriors behind the Chippewa vanished over the sides of their ponies and swung off to the west. On rushed Flat Mouth, still singing and shouting. But the climax of his arrival was weakened by a puff of smoke from a mound of grass. The signal fire was burning, and the Indians were heaping wet grass and green branches upon it.

Leaving the two to watch the smoke, I hastened to the north side of the grove. Had the enemy but known it he could have massacred the girl and me easily, as we watched the Pillager's sensational exploit. When I came to the end of the growth I noted the Sioux had heard the Chippewa's scalp-yell and were very uneasy. They were riding back and forth, their eyes fixed on the timber, while one of their number was galloping madly toward the tip of the grove to learn what had happened. After watching them for a minute and failing to detect any sign of an advance on our position, I returned to my companions and related what I had observed.

"The name of Eshkebugecoshe fills the Sioux hearts with fear. It makes them old women," loudly boasted the chief.

"It was a big coup," I declared. "You may paint the marks of death and the feet of horses on your body and on your tent to show you killed a man while riding hard."

The chief toned down his vanity on meeting the girl's clear gaze and confessed:

"Eshkebugecoshe is a mighty warrior, but the white woman's medicine helped him. It made the Sioux blind till I could creep very close."

"Couldn't we get across the river? I can swim," eagerly spoke up Miss Dearness.

Flat Mouth said it would be foolish to cross before dark, but he suggested that I reconnoitre the river while he watched the Indians. He did not seem to think much of the suggestion, but as it came from the girl he was bound to consider it, probably believing her medicine suggested the plan. I thought very favourably of the idea. The Indians' belief that we planned to use the ponies in attempting to escape would tend to blunt their watch of the river. I followed the rivulet until I came to its mouth, a bit of a beach grown round with reeds and tall grass. The river rolled brown and silent except for the murmuring of air currents. Midstream a huge tree floated with roots up raised, like arms held up in surrender—desolation and solitude. As I watched the water I decided a man could well risk the danger. A long swim under water, timed to take advantage of some of the driftwood ever passing, and the trick could be turned. But the water was icy cold and the danger was not for a woman to run unless absolutely necessary.

Yet at night, with the aid of a log, Miss Dearness could be ferried across. I began to look about for some fallen timber which would serve as a raft. It was while occupied in this task that I received ample proof that the Sioux had not forgotten the river. The proof was an arrow which whizzed by my head and disappeared in the reeds. I drew back among the trees and, cocking my gun, searched the top of the bank. I could see nothing suspicious, yet a savage could remain below the bank with the top of his head masked by the fringe of dead grass. Thus concealed, he could follow my every movement and loose another arrow when I presented a fair target.

The thought made me uncomfortable, and I retreated deeper into the grove. A mocking yell told me that my flight had been witnessed, and, incensed, I turned back, determined to get a shot at him. The rascal was too cunning in his hiding, so, returning to my companions, I reported the incident.

Flat Mouth slipped out of his white robes and without a word stole to the river to match his woodcraft against the sentinel's. As he had reported that the Sioux on the north side of the timber were quiet, and as no danger could take the girl unaware from the south side, I surrendered to my desire and followed him.

Armed only with his bow and arrow he slipped through the growth with the softness of a lynx, following my trail along the rivulet. Keeping well back, I watched him. He was studying my tracks rather than looking about for the enemy. He halted a short distance from where I had stood in the open when the arrow missed me, then glided to the edge of the reeds and, bending low, pulled an arrow from the muck. As he straightened I saw his arm twitch and a red blotch appear on the biceps. Leaping to one side, he fitted the arrow to his bow, gave a keen, sweeping glance overhead and discharged the arrow. Almost with the twang of the bow there came the shrill death-cry from the sentinel and I saw a dark body bump along the trunk of an oak and lodge against one of its branches.

Gliding back to me, the Pillager announced:

"Sometime I will climb up and get his hair. The arrow in the mud showed that it came from overhead and not from the bank."

With this explanation he registered the kill with his terrible war-cry.

We hastened back through the grove, the Pillager swinging to the north to reconnoitre, while I made direct for Miss Dearness. She had heard the two cries, one of death and one of victory, and stood facing the river, her hands twisted together, her face white and drawn. On beholding me she hastily turned toward the plain and her hands fell listlessly to her side.

The column of smoke had replied to the message from the south and was now dying out. She informed me that while I had been gone the Indians had used their robes to confine the smoke and then released it in puffs. Had the Pillager witnessed it he could have read the code. However it was not difficult to guess the message; it told those in the south to hasten if they would be in at a triple kill.

Until now I had had no chance to exchange more than a few words with Miss Dearness. She gestured for me to sit beside her on the robes, and I took the opportunity to say:

"You should have started back east the minute you heard your father was dead."

"I told him I would stay till someone came to take his place."

"But it's no place for a white woman," I protested. "It's bad enough for a man to be cast away among these savages."

She smiled faintly and reminded— "The only danger I've faced—until to-day—was from a white man, Black Chabot."

"I wish the Robe had hit him with his arrows."

"I told the Robe to be very careful and not hit him, the drunken beast!"

"If we could only get word to my Chippewas," I sighed.

"It would do no good so long as I am with you," she discouraged. Then with a grim little laugh: "I'm bad luck. If you were alone they would come; but not while I'm with you. They believe I stole the voice from the Qu'Appelle or that my medicine wasn't strong enough to keep. If I hadn't sent the Voice back they would dare anything to help me."

"Then the Crees and Assiniboins?"

"They've heard the Chippewas tell that my medicine is weak. Now they believe I would have kept the Voice if I could. They feel no gratitude. It would be as dangerous for me to meet Cree or Assiniboin away from the post as it has been to meet the Sioux."

"Nonsense!" I scoffed. "They're afraid of you, even if they don't like your medicine."

"They hate me and they don't fear me. When I went on the river alone at night and sang to forget my loneliness I little knew what I was stirring up. I went to get away from the drinking and fighting. I sang, as I was always singing back in the east."

"But the Assiniboins would listen to me," I proudly insisted.

"Mr. Franklin, you don't know them. You've met those that come to your post. Their territory extends far to the west. They're a mighty people. You've met men from one band only. Meet them away from your fort and your rum and you will find they're very much savages."

A horseman suddenly darted toward us, his bow drawn, seeking to learn if we were keeping watch. I covered his bobbing figure as best I could and held my fire until he should come within decent range. Just as I began to hope, he pulled his pony about and scuttled back to his mates.

"Who are you? Where were you born?" I asked, lowering my gun.

"English—England," she murmured, her gaze wandering far beyond the wild horizon.

"And I'm an American. Flat Mouth thinks your hair is medicine."

With a little frown she gathered up the dishevelled mass, and, before my eyes, performed the miracle of restoring her hair to glossy smoothness by the simple process of patting, twisting, and poking. Stay out in the Northwest for three seasons and you will appreciate how keenly this simple task appeals to a white man.

She faced me suddenly, her blue eyes prying deep into mine, and abruptly asked—

"Why do you look at me like that?"

"Like what?" I defended.

"As if you had never seen a woman before."

"I haven't seen a white woman for three seasons," I sighed.

"I understand." And she turned to resume her watch of the Indians.

"A white woman even if she be as ignorant and unattractive as a scullery maid would seem a goddess to you now."

"Scarcely that," I demurred. "Three years out here is a long time, but not an eternity. I never dream of scullery maids. I"

Her grave reproachful gaze caused me to shift and ask—

"You'll be willing to start back east after you get out of this?" "When my successor comes. The X. Y. people allow nothing to interfere with the interests of the company."

"Except rum," I reminded.

"That was my whim. The company will disapprove. My defence will be that the drinking made it dangerous for me. They will let it go at that. The companies know liquor is bad for the trade. If it weren't for competition they wouldn't use it. It isn't sound business. You must depend entirely upon the Indians to get furs into the posts. The richest fur country in the world would be worthless unless you had Indians to work it. Then where is the sense in killing off your workmen with rum? Every drinking match means so many wounded and usually one or more dead. It's bad enough when the quarrels are kept with in one tribe, but let a Chippewa stab a Cree, or a Cree an Assiniboin, and you have a season of war between the two tribes, and no trade. Except when fighting an opposition the Hudson's Bay Company is very careful about giving out liquor. So would the X. Y. and the N. W. be if either could have all the trade."

"If the N. W. and the opposition posts should shut down on rum to-morrow you'd find these Indians hunting for some free trader to give rum for their goods. They will travel any distance to get new 'milk.' They will have rum and we must have the furs. There is no other way."

"Oh yes, there is," she murmured. "Give one company a monopoly of the trade, and the furs will come in and no rum will go out."

"But which company? The N. W.? Then I agree with all my heart."

"The companies should combine into one. No company would refuse if it knew a monopoly was to be granted."

She became silent and I was satisfied to study her profile. During the stress of fighting and retreating I had defended her from a sense of duty. The puzzling and disturbing emotions which had driven me up the river to find her had abated. From the moment we met in the woods, and I learned my work was cut out for me she became quite impersonal, something to be saved. The Pillager placed her on a pedestal and looked on her as mighty medicine because of her hair.

Now that I took time to study her she became a personality again, to be protected differently than one protects a pack of beaver. This knowledge was borne in upon me after I had decided she was very tired. Weariness suggests weakness. The strain had told on her and this fact humanized her. I began to pity her. I was guilty of feeling glad she was weary, for it proved that she was no superwoman.

I arranged a robe at the foot of an oak between two huge roots and asked her to lie there and rest. At first she dismissed the suggestion with an impatient shake of the head, then abruptly changed her mind and made herself comfortable. I remained behind the bushes watching the enemy. Inside of five minutes her deep and regular breathing told me she was asleep.

I turned and looked at her and found the masculine resolution which had characterized her face was replaced by womanliness. She held a new interest for me, and I wondered if, when back east, she was not always like this, relaxed and soft and winsome. She was half reclining, half sitting, with her head and shoulders against the oak, and as I gazed, her head sank to one side and I feared she would lean too far and lose her balance. I sat beside her, and her head rested on my shoulder.

Thus we sat while the sun sped along on its eternal errand. Thus we sat when a Sioux vidette galloped slowly toward the grove with the intention of counting coup by coming very close. Through the lace work of willow branches I could see the scoundrel plainly, although remaining unseen by him.

As the girl had her head pillowed on my right shoulder I raised my gun with my left hand. Even when thus handicapped I knew I could pot him if he should come up a bit closer. He wavered, almost halted and stabbed his suspicious glances up and down the front of our shelter, then directed his horse well within easy range. I had him, only the explosion of the piece would have startled the girl. I held my fire. Something suddenly alarmed him, and he yanked his pony about and rode frantically back to his mates. Arrows began pursuing him, three in the air at a time, and I knew the Pillager was back from his trip of discovery. The arrows did no damage, and the man escaped.

Then the Pillager burst through the undergrowth, his face distorted with fear. On beholding us he grunted in deep disgust, yet looked much relieved. Finding the savage so close without any action on my part, he assumed we had been butchered. The girl stirred and opened her blue eyes. For a few moments she remained with her head on my shoulder, her eyes slightly dazed as sleep still lingered. Then a red tide spread to her neck and she drew back against the tree trunk.

"You could have killed him!" Flat Mouth was accusing.

"The range was long," I protested.

"You could have killed him," insisted the chief. "The Medicine Hair slept on your shoulder, or we would have now one more dead Sioux."

The girl understood. Her manner was gentle as she asked—

"You didn't fire because of me?"

"You were sleeping nicely. You needed rest. To-night will be very hard on you. Besides, the chief is mistaken. The warrior was too far away."

Flat Mouth easily followed my disclaimer and with a grunt cried: "Let the Medicine Hair see how far away the Sioux dog was."

Before I could stop him he was running out on the plain. The horseman pranced about, undecided whether to drive him back or await developments. Possibly they believed he was insane. He stopped, stuck an arrow into the earth and loudly called:

"Here, white woman, is where the dog turned his horse. Is it long range?"

"Almost an easy pistol shot," she murmured. "You shouldn't have minded me."

"But I do mind you," I assured. "Besides, one more dead won't save us. Others will be arriving before night. Shooting won't get us clear. We must depend on the darkness."

"You think we can break through?" she wistfully asked.

"We will sneak through," I answered, renewing my pity for her as I more fully realized how she had stood face to face with death ever since discovered by the Sioux.

The Pillager and I had the stimulus of battle to hold us up to the mark. She must await the verdict and, if it be adverse, kill herself or die a thousand deaths.

"I suppose it depends on whether the Sioux up the river arrive before or after dark," she murmured.

"It will be dark before they arrive," I comforted.

I was horribly afraid. The Sioux would make all haste on reading the smoke which told of three victims—one a woman—awaiting capture. I believed they would arrive before night. Did they do this we must stand an attack in force and go down fighting. I prayed for a storm to spoil their bow-strings and leave my gun master of the situation, but the wind continued strong from the south, and there was no hint of rain in the sky.

Had it been a case of the Pillager and myself we would have taken to the river, trusting to reach the opposite bank and find a hiding place in the thickly timbered country. By separating, one of us would stand some chance of escaping. Together with the girl it would be a miracle if we could conceal ourselves even if we reached the other bank of the river. Only a black night would reduce the advantage of mere numbers.

Flat Mouth came up to us, turned on his heel and retired into the timber. I endeavoured to engage him in conversation but he would not talk. The girl said his silence meant he had lost hope, that he believed the enemy would receive reinforcements before night. I insisted he was still angry because I had not shot at the Sioux while she slept on my shoulder. Then we sat side by side, trying to conceal from each other our anxiety, as we watched the sun and kept an eye on the few Indians. They too seemed more interested in the upper reaches of the Red than in us. Like ourselves they were watching for the coming of their tribesmen.

The sun was all but lost behind the western rim, and the long shadows cast by the Indians in front of us would soon fade with the twilight. Now the race between the red scoundrels and the sun was almost run, my heart began jumping most erratically. The girl seemed lost in a reverie, so I left her to see what was going on north of the timber.

The Indians were dismounted and stretched across the plain to prevent our making a break. There were no shadows now, and the light had perceptibly dimmed. I knew how quickly the light fled in these vast areas of loneliness, once the sun gave up the fight. Only a few minutes more and we would hope for the best. A warrior sprang to his feet and stared toward the river. I believed he had glimpsed the Pillager. He said something, and other warriors stood up, one even standing on his horse.

Then came a high pitched call from the river. With an extravagant display of joy they answered the call, sprang to their ponies and began riding back and forth. From the other side of the timber came a yelping chorus.

"Mr. Franklin! Mr. Franklin!" called the bell-like voice of Miss Dearness.

I ran back, much alarmed, and found she had come as far as the rivulet in search of me.

"They're coming!" she said.

I raced to the edge of the woods and beheld them, riding far apart, waving their weapons and shouting their war-songs as they slowly cantered towards us. Dropping on one knee, I covered the man riding in advance of the line whose elaborate headdress marked him as the bearer of the pipe on this expedition. I sent a ball through his chest most neatly, and as his spirit fled to the land of many lodges his followers came to a confused halt. I fired again, this time knocking a man half round in his saddle but not dismounting him. Instantly the survivors scurried back. As I was reloading Flat Mouth came through the bushes and motioned for me to follow him. I hesitated to leave the girl, but she urged:

"Go! They've learned their lesson. They'll keep back."

Flat Mouth hurried diagonally across the timber and emerged on the lower edge near the river. Drawing me down beside him, he pointed to the east bank and grunted—

"Sioux!"

"I heard their signal," I informed him.

"They came down the river on the other side. When it gets very dark they will bring their horses over. They heard your gun and they don't want to try it just now."

"When they cross we can not break through," I said.

"We will all be killed if we stay in the woods. You must stop them from crossing their horses for a little while. The Sioux on this side feel sure of a coup. They will not fight till their friends join them. Stay here till it gets too dark to shoot. I will take Medicine Hair and the horses to the end of the timber. When they attack on both sides we must ride after the sun."

"West?"

"It leads from home but it is the nearest way there. We can strike the Cheyenne near the Lac du Diable country. There are many good hiding places there."

The bushes across the river swayed and a painted face showed through the dusk as one of the newcomers stood up to signal the horsemen on our side. Knowing I could not begin too soon to teach them their place, I rested the gun on Flat Mouth's shoulder, aimed a bit high and had the satisfaction of seeing the brave go sprawling down the bank, his head and shoulders remaining under water. This kill wrung a chorus of devilish yells from the hidden warriors. Flat Mouth hurled his war-cry at them and danced in great glee.

I reloaded and urged the Pillager to return to the girl and prepare her for making the tip of the grove. Reluctantly he left me, swinging to the north to take a final look at the horse men there, and I settled down to waiting.

Objects began to fade out of my vision. Trees near by became blurred and unreal. I knew our supreme effort could not be long delayed. The surface of the water became a black waste, and I thought I heard a faint splash opposite my position. Now voices began calling loudly farther down the river. The newcomers had gone to find a crossing. I could see no reason why I should not put after the chief and the girl; then the soft splashing was repeated, this time nearer.

Quitting the bushes, I crawled through the mud to the edge of the bank and heard a rippling sound that was not made by the lap-lap of the water on the narrow beach. Suddenly a vague shape stood before me, within twenty feet, and I fired. He did not have time to utter his death cry before slumping back into the current. Trailing my gun, I ducked into the woods and followed up the rivulet.

The Pillager and Miss Dearness were about half-way to the end of the timber when I overtook them. It seems she had refused to go further until I joined them.

"Take her and go on," viciously directed Flat Mouth, thrusting the bridles of the three horses into my hands.

"No time for you to count a coup," I warned as he turned back.

"Very soon I shall be at your heels," he promised.

Our progress was slow because of the difficulty in avoiding the frequent clumps of willows. From the plain on the north came the sound of much singing. From the south the Indians were racing their horses impudently near the woods and yelling derisively. I gave the girl the bridles to hold while I recharged my gun. We had nearly reached the end of our cover, and the underbrush was thinning out, when the girl caught my hand and whispered—

"They're trying to burn us out!"

I sniffed and detected smoke, a thin reek of burning grass. I wet my finger and tested the faint breeze. It still held from the south. Creeping to the edge of the plain I could make out moving shapes as the Indians rode up and down the front of the timber. But there were no fires burning on this side, and a blaze lighted on the north would sweep away from us.

Returning to Miss Dearness, I reassured her.

"Then there is only one other explanation," she said. "Flat Mouth has set the grass afire on the north side of us,"

"It will burn to the Turtle, perhaps to the Park."

"Someone is coming!" she warned, and again her hand instinctively closed over mine.

I cocked the gun and rested it over a saddle, not bothering to release my hand.

"It is Eshkebugecoshe," softly called a voice.

The girl dropped my hand hurriedly.

Without pausing, Flat Mouth took charge of the horses and pressed ahead while I guarded the rear. Now the smoke was very noticeable and our animals showed a tendency to bolt.

"You fired the grass?" I whispered.

"In many places," he grunted. "The Sioux are spreading out and watching for us to ride through under cover of the smoke. The warriors on the other side will think we're escaping and will ride into the woods."

We were at the end of the timber, and the girl mounted her pony and adjusted her white robe.

Dead ahead sounded the pounding of hoofs and an Indian screamed something. Flat Mouth interpreted:

"He says for the men to ride through the woods, some to go to the river, some to come up here, some to follow the fire and see if we are there, some to keep in front of it. Wait for me here and do not fire the gun unless you have to."

Before we could restrain him he was galloping toward the messenger, his white robe making him resemble a Sioux warrior whose skins were white with clay. I heard him salute the Sioux in that tongue. The other asked something in a sharp, insistent voice. The next moment there was the blurr of a struggle, then the clump of a falling body. A horseman was riding toward me. I cocked my piece, but Flat Mouth softly commanded:

"Hurry! Hurry!"

Then he took the girl's pony by the halter and led the way out into the plain.